


RtistandhisCourf/Mysteriesof24601 Video Collab!!!

by ShitpostingfromtheBarricade



Series: Web Series AU [6]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Gen, R and Courf running a channel together is actual madness, RtistandhisCourf (OC), Third Person Limited POV, Web series AU, Webseries AU, camera pov, found family fluff, friendship fluff, those dishes are a motif
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 14:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17727233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShitpostingfromtheBarricade/pseuds/ShitpostingfromtheBarricade
Summary: Grantaire and Courfeyrac turned their feature on Cosette's channel into a collab: it's time for Cosette to return the favor.This is an accompanying piece toEpisode 56of theMysteries of 24601 Web Series AU. This will mostly make sense if read by itself, but it will make more sense and be more satisfying to read within the context of the series.Warnings:some language (English), some language (Portuguese), kink mention (not explicit)





	RtistandhisCourf/Mysteriesof24601 Video Collab!!!

**Author's Note:**

> This was probably one of the worst sections of this entire fic to have to clean up, and I want to give a giant "thanks" to [PieceOfCait](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieceOfCait/pseuds/PieceOfCait) for helping me and pushing me through it.
> 
> All references are linked at the end, along with translation notes.

The scene opens to R and a dark beauty sitting across from one another on stools. Regular watchers of the hosts’ videos recognize the room as R’s studio, where everything from bizarre but effective ASMR to experimental painting to slightly less experimental music covers take place. 

This particular channel is RtistandhisCourf’s miscellaneous channel with no real dedicated focus. R has a guitar propped across his lap and is strumming a few chords as the girl hums along, so it might be assumed that this week’s episode features music. However, given the channel’s tendency to “donkey-kick preconceived expectations in the face,” according to its editor, it isn’t a sure indicator of anything.

R looks to the camera without stopping the music, the girl following shortly after with a content smile. *R* and *Cosette* appear under each in sync with their respective eye-contact, bright ping sound effects following in quick succession. The music continues another moment before the scene fades to black.

 

The normal opener runs, intense electric guitar and a punishing pace set by the drums striking a harsh contrast from the soft chords of the moment before. The song intensifies into a half-time beat as animations of R and Courf fly across the screen in a variety of ambiguous and at times questionable activities. The music cuts out suddenly, hanging on a cartoony doodle of R sitting next to Cosette.

 

“Hey everyone!” R says with a wave. The guitar is resting upright on a stand between him and Cosette. “My name is R.”

“And mine’s Cosette!”

“Some of you might have seen me and Courf in Cosette’s video series ‘Mysteries of 24601’ in the episode she released earlier this week. If you haven’t checked her out before now, you should! Check for the link in the description below.” The command is accompanied by cheeky grins and uncoordinated pointing from both vloggers.

“So anyway,” R continues, “I know you’ve all heard me bitch before about musicians that make you listen to twenty minutes of bullshit before you can hear the song itself, but Courf and I have a surprise for Cosette, and this is the only way we can assure she’ll stick around long enough to see what it is--though I would like to preface this by saying that I’m pretty sure she’ll like this a lot better than the last surprise.”

The bewilderment apparent on Cosette’s face lifts as she immediately jumps to her friends’ defense. “That’s not true, your last surprise was…” She trails off, still nodding her head rhythmically as she searches for the right words. “Okay, so there were some rather unpleasant aspects to it, but I’m still glad you decided to share this with me!”

R stands up from the stool, chuckling as he walks off-camera. “You could find a redeeming trait in a balrog, I swear.”

“To be fair,” Courf’s bodiless voice calls from behind the camera, “balrogs are pretty badass. Which is why I’m going to pretend I’m not offended at the implication that our appearance on Mysteries was anything less than a blessing for everyone involved.”

It looks like Cosette is making a valiant attempt to glare at the man behind the camera, but her smile breaks through before her efforts can be properly realized. 

R reappears carrying a large giftwrapped box with sharpied doodles decorating the plain brown paper. Courf enters the frame from the other side, enthusiastically dragging a stool up next to Cosette and placing a low table in front of them. The package is placed neatly in front of Cosette before R returns to his seat.

“Okay, so before we begin, we need to give a little background for our viewers who don’t watch Cosette’s channel,” Courf starts.

“Which you should! Cosette is a total sweetheart, and it’s a really interesting investigation,” R adds.

“And her dad is Daddy. Definitely a bonus.”

R’s mouth is in a tight smile at his collaborative partner with eyebrows raised high in unspoken lecture, and Cosette’s face is a clenched grin.

“So! Courf and I, as you know, are a bit far from where we respectively consider home, and Cosette graciously invited us to Easter dinner at her house. Which was lovely.”

“Speaking of.” Courf turns to face Cosette, desperation in his voice. “We still have leftovers. Marius and I have been eating them for every meal for four days, and they’re still. There.”

“Are you complaining? They’re heavenly.” R shifts his attention from Courf to Cosette. “Cos, you and your dad are master chefs. Feel free to give me your leftovers anytime.” R turns his focus back to the camera. “This may seem unrelated, but it actually leads to our next point kind of seamlessly. Ish.”

“Regular viewers of Mysteries might recall that Cosette’s home only has one sets of dishes for herself and one for Daddy.” Courf receives a glare from Cosette, but he continues on without breaking stride. “When we visited, they were gracious hosts and provided food--” 

“So much food.” 

“All of the food. And they had proper serving platters for those, because they’re regular functioning human beings. Obviously. Except that R and I, due to the whole ‘last minute addition’ thing, were accommodated with disposable plastic plates.” 

“Which was very kind.” 

“Extremely generous.” 

“Thoughtful.” 

“But given that you, Cosette, my sweet, my darling, my everything, have a lot of friends who love, care about, and want to visit you, the gang pitched in to get you this.” As Courf speaks R nudges the box toward her, indicating with a nod for her to open it.

Cosette’s eyes widen and her hands clutch in timidly before she reaches out tentatively for the box, almost as if she expects to be stopped.

“Go on,” R encourages.

“If you hate it, we’ll just edit this bit out. No worries,” assures Courf.

Emboldened by her friends' words, her moves become more confident. There’s still hesitance as she makes the first several cautious tears, carefully avoiding R’s artwork, but that caution is thrown to the wind when she finally sees what lies beneathe. R and Courf’s anxious smiles fade to genuine ones as the paper is hastily thrown aside to reveal a box that declares itself to be a dish set, a second box atop it bearing the likeness of a silverware set.

“You guys,” she chokes. “I can’t believe--I mean--you shouldn’t have.” Her eyes glisten as she looks back and forth between the two men, who reach over now to wrap their arms around her.

“You deserve it, Babe,” Courf tells her, pressing a kiss into her hair. 

“It and so much more,” R finishes, resting his cheek atop her head.

Cosette sniffles. “I’m--I never...I never _dreamed_ I'd be blessed with such great friends.” They sit in silence a few more seconds before Cosette breaks into a giggle, shrugging the boys off of her and running a finger under each of her eyes. “Look at me. Crying over dishes. Goodness. Courf? Makeup check?”

The man gives her a critical examination. “Could do with a touch-up if you really want, but overall stunning.”

“I’ll pass then, thanks” she smiles, sounding more composed. She looks between the men again. “But really, thank you so much. I--I can’t even begin to tell you how much this means to me.”

“Think of it as a gift to ourselves: we can see you that much more often outside of class,” reasons Courf.

“And maybe it’ll make up for the whole ‘daddy’ thing?” R shrugs. “The bet and the movement.” 

Courf looks directly at the camera, expression flat and eyebrows raised.

 

Courf sits alone at a desk. Regular viewers recognize this as Courf’s room. 

“That stale piece of toast can apologize for himself if he wants, but for my part I have _no regrets_.”

 

“In any case,” R continues, smirking, “Apollo never would let any of us live it down if we just passively let you continue soiling the environment with disposable plates.”

Cosette snorts, and Courf grins. 

“And of course, no one’s opinion matters to R more than our dear Apollo’s,” Courf teases, blinking innocently.

R reaches over, hovering his hands over Cosette’s ears. “Not in front of the baby,” he stage-whispers.

“Awww, look, he’s blushing,” Courf continues, gesturing for Cosette to look. 

“You are too precious by half,” Cosette croons, covering her mouth with a hand.

True enough, R is growing more flush by the second. “Come on, that’s not--”

“Oh yeah.” Courf turns to Cosette. “Just in case anyone was even moderately uncertain as to his being totally and utterly--”

“Courf,” R whines.

“--heads-over-heels, absolutely smitten with his--oh, what were you calling him the other day? ‘Golden champion’? ‘Best hope this world has for a future that still contains humanity’? ‘ _Love of your li--_ ’”

“Courf!” R admonishes, bright pink to his neckline as Cosette watches on in mute amusement. “Apollo watches these,” he adds in a loud whisper. 

Courf pouts. “I thought you said he doesn’t watch our videos.” 

“He says he likes the ones with songs,” R responds, rubbing at his flushed neck.

Courf’s eyebrows raise in something between teasing and total delight. “You mean the ones where I don’t talk.” Courf’s expression intensifies when R’s face flushes a shade deeper. “Does he really?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be behind the camera?” 

“I can multitask.” 

“Apparently you can’t. Get,” R shoos with an embarrassed grin. Courf sticks his tongue out at R before moving back off-camera. R clears his throat, cheeks finally beginning to lose some of their cherry lustre.

“It’s just as well,” Cosette smiles. “We also have a surprise for you!”

“We do?” Courf is quiet as Cosette raises an unimpressed eyebrow past the camera. “Fuck, right, we do!”

Following his initial reaction of open fear, R’s expression shifts to a glare past the camera. Given Courf’s usual Russian Roulette of surprises on this channel, it’s a well-deserved reaction. Cosette pays the show’s normal host no mind, launching into her explanation without hesitation.

“I haven’t seen enough of their episodes to know if my channel has ever come up outside of this--”

*There is a distinct possibility that it has--and Cosette, I beg that you turn back now.*

“--but Courf and R are actually the masterminds behind the title of my vlog, thanks to their...keen attention...in regards to an old photo I once posted of me and my papa.”

Understanding dawns on R’s face, and he crosses his arms and looks down. “Cosette, you really don’t have to.”

“It’s gorgeous, and I want to let everyone see. Courf said you’d never do it yourself, and you invested way too much time on it for only to be appreciated by the handful of people who pass through my house.” She puts a hand on his knee, speaking more softly. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

His hand reaches for his neck. “I just--I mean...you don’t have to. It’s nothing much.”

Cosette sits upright, offended. “‘Nothing much’?” she repeats, indignant. “Courf told me you spent weeks on it, and you told me yourself you couldn’t even fill in the face until after Easter. If that’s ‘nothing much,’ then it’s clear to me that you are undervaluing your time and underselling yourself. In which case, I am going to insist all the more that everyone see how wonderful and talented you are.”

R’s head tips further forward, but when he looks up to Cosette moment later he’s smiling bashfully. “Thanks.”

Cosette leans in to hug him, and they remain that way until a crashing sound draws their attention, jolting them apart.

“What are you doing? You’re going to break it!” cries R, rushing off-camera.

Cosette panics beside him, leaping to her feet and hurrying after him. “Courf, you told me you knew how to handle this!”

“He lied!” responds R, finally returning on-screen. He cradles a large easel behind the stools, gingerly placing it to the center of the frame before grabbing the guitar and its stand and moving it off to the other side. Cosette follows, carrying a large canvas so its back is to the viewers.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Courf calls sheepishly.

“No,” the two respond in resounding unison, Cosette’s softer “thank you” trailing by a beat.

“Careful,” R gently warns, guiding Cosette to the easel. “Oil paint takes a while to dry, and the face--”

“I know, I know, you told me,” Cosette responds good-naturedly, graciously accepting his assistance. It isn’t until Cosette is at the easel that the canvas is flipped. She stands proudly to one side, introducing it with a grand flourish. R stands to the other side, slightly hunched with his hands shoved timidly into his front pockets.

The painting--oil, apparently--is a realistic rendering of a man with a smiley-face censor sticker over his face holding a child in the crook of his arm and pointing to something with the other. He wears a button-down and blazer, both rolled to his elbows, and seems to glow against the dark of the background. The girl in his arm looks out in delighted awe at whatever the man is drawing her attention to. 

“So R, incredible artist that he is, painted this for me based on a photo I posted on my blog back in 2013. I’d said that it was my favorite picture of me and my papa. R and I didn’t know each other then--”

“A tragedy in its own right,” Courf interrupts.

“Agreed,” she states confidently as she looks to R, who meets her eye with a shy smile. “But we met our first year of uni, and I am so glad we did.” 

The moment stands until Courf’s voice arises. “R, is there anything you want to add?” 

Cosette nods encouragingly.

R clears his throat, removing his hands from his pockets. His stance widens, and he seems to make a conscious effort to stand straight and pull his shoulders back. “Well, uh. Y’all might remember I was doing that hands-study a couple years back where I focused a lot on the works of Sargent and Nauman and the power of the shapes and, uh. Yeah?” Several boxes with links and video names pop up around where the video has focused on R and the painting, only just barely keeping Cosette on the edge of the frame. “Really Boss Ross’d it up on those hands. 

“Anyway, Cosette posted that picture--this picture,” he clarifies, gesturing awkwardly to the painting, “of her and her dad, and I just. I liked it. Whoever took it really framed it well, they took the time to get the proportions right, and the pose, and the message, and the, the power,” he continues, gaining confidence as he goes and pointing to the outstretched limb, “of that hand. I wanted to capture how that happened.

“So I did some studies on the posture and positioning and the form, and I even recycled the pose in a series I did later.” A link to a personal art blog appears across the bottom of the video. R turns suddenly to Cosette. “Shit, I’m sorry, I never got permission, is that--is that okay?” 

Cosette is nodding proudly before he even finishes the thought.

“Right. So I knew of Cosette’s series, obviously, and I knew she loved this picture, but then we met in university while I was going through a rough time--money was tight, and I wasn’t feeling too hot about me, among other things, and Cosette, well.” He shrugs, looking over at her with a relieved smile. “She was amazing. She _is_ amazing,” he clarifies. 

“She checked up on me insultingly frequently, and she always ‘accidentally’ brought too much food--which, now that I’ve been over for Easter, I realize may have been a legitimate excuse,” he continues, glancing over to her with a smirk. “And uh. After we all made it through first year and the worst fucking maths course I’ve ever sat through in my life--”

“Hear, hear,” Courf and Cosette offer in tired unison.

“--I wanted to do something for Cosette and her dad for looking out for me and checking up on me. So uh.” He gestures again toward the painting, with exasperation but far more confidence than the first time. “Here it is.”

“Are you happy with it?” Cosette asks honestly.

There’s tense silence as R carefully evaluates the painting, sincerity embedded in his usually-carefree features.

He turns his body back toward the camera and looks toward Cosette. His face is stoic and poised before breaking into an easy smile. “I am.”

They come together for another embrace. It’s only visible briefly before the back of Courf’s body obscures the camera’s view as he sprints into a flying leap off of the platform used earlier to present Cosette’s gift.

 

Unfortunately, viewers don’t get to see Courf’s majestic landing nor its surely-graceful aftermath. The painting, easel, and platform have all been removed, and the guitar is back in R’s lap. R and Cosette are in their starting seats, both looking slightly battered but generally uninjured. 

“2.5,” R announces.

“4,” Cosette graciously allows.

*As someone watching the footage after the fact, that take-off was impeccable, even if I didn’t quite stick the landing. Solid 4.*

“In any case, now that I’ve made you sit through the vlog-equivalent of a stay-at-home mom’s pre-recipe life-story, we’re finally getting onto the song!” Cosette and R both wave their arms in mute celebration.

“And contrary to Courf’s earlier implication, he’s the one who chose to do a song--not R,” Cosette says pointedly. 

R’s attention turns beyond the camera. “At Cosette’s wise request, Courf was not allowed any input regarding this week’s song selection. Unfortunately, this did not stop him from trying.”

 

A door is kicked open, startling R where he lays on a bed in a pair of boxers reading a book.

“ _Caralho!_ "

“So I was thinking, George Michael, ‘Father Fig--’”

A pillow is flung at the camera. “ _Põe-te nas putas_!"

 

There’s muffled singing coming which gets much louder as a door appears to open by itself, revealing R exiting in a towel. He jumps back when he sees the camera. “ _Puta que pariu_ , Courf, what do you want?”

“So picture it: 'Stacy’s Mom,' but Cosette’s Dad--”

“No,” R groans, a hand reaching over the lens.

 

Cosette and R lay across a couch together in equally unconventional positions, a movie playing in front of them. A remote rises from the bottom of the frame, tensing slightly before the screen goes black. Both R and Cosette jolt up, and before they can turn to identify the perpetrator Courf is speaking.

“'Candyman,' Christina Aguilera--”

“Courf, no,” Cosette states firmly.

“It’s a classic!”Courf protests.

“Give me that--” R begins, climbing over the back of the sofa as the camera starts its shaky retreat.

 

The video peaks out from around a corner to show R mixing something in a kitchen as a blond man stares on adoringly. R looks up and admonishes him. “You’re supposed to be on look-out!”

“Why would I do that when I have such better things to be watching?” the man teases. 

“E,” R groans, visibly pinkening.

The blond huffs. “You haven’t even explained what this is about--”

The cameraman makes a mad dash to the end of the counter, making both R and the blond man jump. “Okay, but you love Eartha Kitt--”

“Courf!” roars R, putting down the bowl to run at the camera. Giggles can be heard behind it as the camera moves away, apparently finding its way to higher ground. 

“And ‘Santa Baby’ is female empowerment! The woman retains her agency and takes advantage of the pre-existing patriarcal establishment--”

“Wait, R.” Everything freezes, and the camera turns to the blond. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”

There’s a giant huff off-camera before the frame adjusts to include R. “He’s just trying to find ways to make us sing dirty songs about Cosette’s dad.”

“Maybe not? Give him a chance.” The blond, still seated at the breakfast bar, looks up to the camera expectantly. R crosses his arms, his flannel flaring out behind him and eyes daring the cameraman to proceed.

Courf begins singing, “ _Daddy honey, one thing I really do need, a deed--_ ” the camera moving full-speed out of the apartment, breathless laughter of several pitches from sources offscreen. “ _\--in my bedroom tonight, Daddy Baby, so hurry up my chimn--_ ” This time, the song is interrupted by a scream. “Not the camera!” the voice begs between wild giggles. “It was expensive! We need it!”

 

A rectangle of carpeting gives way to black textured material as the video slowly rises, shark-like in its eventual reveal of the backs of two heads nestled against one another. R and the blond man both appear enthralled in their own individual projects and utterly oblivious to the impending doom.

A low chant starts. “ _Guys my age don’t know how to treat me, don’t know how to treat me, don’t know how to tre--_ ”

The sound and video are both cut in one clean sweep of a blue throw pillow, the blond not even having looked up from his eBook as he wielded the cushion with cold precision. 

 

An unfamiliar home comes into view, house number noticeably obscured as the front door is entered. It’s silent as the cameraman makes a left turn, kicking open a door without knocking to reveal Cosette laying on her bed and speaking on the phone, looking rather startled at the intrusion.

This evidently has no bearing on the cameraman. “ _You can be the boss, Daddy, you can be the boss. Taste like a keg party, back on the sauce. I like you a lo--_ ”

The girl leaps up from her bed toward the camera. The video is upside-down now, trained on the hardwood floors and a purple rug. “How did you even get in--sorry Papa, no, everything is fine,” she assures in a softer voice.

“Is that Daddy?? Tell him I say ‘hi’!” Courf shouts.

“Courf, no--yes Papa, I will.” There’s a sigh before Cosette speaks. She sounds aged and tired when she speaks again. “Papa says ‘hi’ back.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Courf hisses in celebration. 

 

A projector screen is framed by the outlines of two figures. The blond from before is in the front of the room speaking passionately about tax brackets, referring to statistics behind him on the wall. 

He looks as if he’s about to launch into another point when the screen behind him flips to a picture of a man with his face blurred, music blaring and drowning out the blond’s point.

  _You can be my daddy tonight night night_  
_I’m neon phosphorescent_  
_Open like a Christmas present now_  
_You can be my daddy tonight night night_  
_If you’re seeking heaven_  
_Then you wanna come and get it, get it_

Laughter can be made out under the music, and the dark figures on either side of the video shake with it. The blond remains where he stands, expression deadpan as he stares ahead toward the back of the room. 

The music stops soon after, and a deep voice can be heard commenting, “I don’t think that window was ever meant to be used as an exit” before the video cuts.

 

Back in the studio, Cosette and R aim dry, tired stares above the camera.

“We did eventually choose a song all by ourselves,” Cosette clarifies. 

“And it has nothing to do with fathers, either,” R adds.

“It might make R’s Apollo jealous though,” Cosette continues with a wink. “So I’ll need to be careful for the next couple of meetings.”

“You and me both.” The hidden speaker receives two very unimpressed looks in response.

R turns to grab his guitar, attaching a clamp to the neck and strumming a few times before looking up to Cosette. “Ready?”

Cosette nods, smiling.

The chords begin, and Cosette joins with delicate humming. Her voice is high and gentle, and when she begins singing the words feel dainty. R hums behind her, accentuating some lines before they pass parts and the man is featured. The song ends in harmony, with the two singers smiling shyly at one another.

They look back to the camera as one, smiles growing wider. 

“That was R’s arrangement of ‘So This is Love,’” Cosette beams. “Did you like it? Let us know in the comments!” 

“And if you want to hear more of our dear Cosette’s dulcet tones, let us know, and we might be persuaded to do another collab,” R adds. “For more of her and her endless patience and kindness in general, though, seriously check out her channel, ‘Mysteries of 24601.’”

“Which was our name!” Courf volunteers, moving back on-camera and dragging his seat from R’s side to Cosette’s.

Cosette nods sagely, still smiling. “It was indeed.” She peaks back at the painting behind them, and her grin widens. “Goodness, I just feel so blessed to have such great friends. Even if they do try to flirt with my dad.”

Courf and R each reach an arm around Cosette, leaning their heads on her shoulders affectionately in the half-hug before sitting upright again.

“And with that,” Courf announces, “Courf.”

“R.”

“Out,” the two finish in unison, dabbing with ridiculous explosions and flame sound effects in the background as Cosette giggles helplessly.

“I still can’t believe you do that every episode,” she explains through laughter to the grinning boys.

“Did you ever doubt it?” R asks.

“Honestly, Cosette, would we fuck with you like that?”

 

Courf and R are in Courf’s room together this time.

“We absolutely would and did,” Courf grins. 

“And it was a pleasure.” 

The two high-five.

 

Their normal play-out follows, a soft original piece on guitar with R’s voice humming along in wordless accompaniment as acknowledgements scroll over a doodle of the three in their final scene in the studio.

**Author's Note:**

> "My name is R-ius Pontmercy." " _And miiiiiiiine's Coseeeeeeeette!_ "
> 
> Lots of references in this one:  
> -[John Singer Sargent's art](https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2015/sargent-portraits-of-artists-and-friends/blog/posts/sargent-portrayal-of-hands)  
> -[Nauman's art](https://mymodernmet.com/bruce-nauman-fifteen-pairs-of-hands/)  
> -["Father Figure" by George Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSAobKPMiNE)  
> -["Stacy's Dad" (basically Cosette's Dad) by Uncle Izzy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xgFddJKZlMo) (I wasn't actually sure this existed when I wrote it)  
> -["Candyman" by Christina Aguilera](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipa0GhPZYwA)  
> -["Santa Baby" by Eartha Kitt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mk_GmhD053E) (Those were my own personal original lyrics, but if you're really dying for gay "Santa Baby covers there's a T-rated version by Daveo Falaveo [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUqDd2hxV04) and a version that walks a very fine line between T and M by Xmas Bear [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGkGeMQdS9k).)  
> -["Guys My Age" by Hey Violet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ixYnl0kGeI)  
> -["You Can Be the Boss" by Lana del Rey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGAYzUq0FWg)  
> -["Be My Daddy" by Lana del Rey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z22Nq_IvJAw)  
> -And finally, the only pure song in this whole hell-piece, ["So This is Love" by Tessa Violet ft Jon Cozart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o4NXOQsMJRw). (It just worked too well, and also I love it.)
> 
>  **Language notes:**  
>  " _Põe-te nas putas_ " means "put yourself with the whores" (essentially, "get the hell out of here")  
> " _Puta que pariu_ basically means "fucking hell!"
> 
> The research for Courf's songs really were the absolute worst part of this entire series. Keep my Youtube watch history in your prayers. (incognito mode took care of the rest)
> 
> The other corresponding piece is [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17726846), and the next episode is [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17561900/chapters/41918261#workskin)!
> 
> Did you like R and Courf's channel? Wanna hate on me for the Daddy-kink thing? (I promise, you cannot hate me more than I hate myself.) Comment below or send me hate-asks on anon at my [tumblr](http://shitpostingfromthebarricade.tumblr.com)!


End file.
